


nothin' but holiday spirit

by ficfucker



Category: Last Podcast on The Left (Podcast) RPF
Genre: Christmas, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:48:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21968824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficfucker/pseuds/ficfucker
Summary: marcus spends the christmas in texas; ben misses him horribly
Relationships: Ben Kissel/Marcus Parks
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	nothin' but holiday spirit

**Author's Note:**

> bc ben put on his story how he's spending christmas alone :((

Marcus picks up fairly quick and there he is: displayed over Ben’s phone screen, smiling all crooked and toothy. It’s bright where he is, behind a house maybe, the sky a shocking blue. He grins even bigger when he sees Ben on the other end of the line, greets his boyfriend sweetly with, “Hey, darlin’!”

Ben grins back. All the loneliness of the holiday has been zapped out of him. His heart actually flutters, like this is some cheesy romantic Christmas movie. “Hey, you!” 

“Holdin’ up alright on yer lonesome?” Marcus sits on something. Ben thinks he’s leaned up on a barn by how weathered the thick boards of wood are. 

“Oh yeah, I’m keepin’ on,” Ben laughs. “Georgie’s been missin’ ya!” Ben flicks on a light in the living room and switches to the external camera, shows Georgie next to him on the couch. Puffin is sleeping soundly one cushion over. In his “doggy voice”, Ben asks, “Georgie, is that your daddy? Can you hear Marcus on the phone, Georgie?”

Marcus smiles so hard, his eyes crinkle up. “Awww. Hiiii, Georgie!” he coos in a dopey voice. He breaks into his classic, chalky giggling, wheezing. 

Ben watches him, enamored. His heart flutters again. He switches back to his front-facing camera so his face is in view. “How are things down there then, Marcus?” 

Marcus snorts. “Ya know, I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a cigarette this badly in my life.” He rubs his right hand against his chin where a few hairs have sprung. “You think if my family could handle me bein’ bipolar and all that, the whole gay thing would be a breeze.” 

“Oh jeez.” 

Marcus ghosts a laugh, his smile picks back up. “Yeah, but it ain’t too bad. Good seein’ everyone again, all in one place. And the-the homophobia is secondary. They just don’t get it.”

Ben nods. “Oh trust me, babe, I know alllll about that.” 

Homophobia is the reason Ben isn’t leaving New York for the holidays. He’s been telling everyone he’s staying to watch over the dogs while Marcus is down in Texas. It’s partly true. 

The other part is his parents. Ben remembers, acutely, what it was like when Eric had come out. The arguments over supper that boiled up into a fever pitch. The use of God as an all-seeing threat. The doors slamming and hushed voices all filled with venom.

Marcus breaks Ben of his thoughts, says, “You’d love it here, though, I swear. Dogs everywhere. Is it snowing yet there?”

“Little dusting here and there. I think by the time you get back it’ll be sticking.”

Marcus nods. He’s got on a light brown hoodie with dark wool lining, some black shirt that has lettering stenciled over the breast, but Ben can’t make out what is says. He looks so handsome in the stark lighting, eyes dishwater blue. His hair is just the right amount of messy, falling over his forehead. 

In the two days he’s been in Texas, his accent has already gotten thicker. It always does. Sometimes Ben forgets just how prominent his drawl can be, but then Marcus says something and the Y hinges, the A stretches into a long, buttery vowel. 

It’s cute in such a way, Ben doesn’t even have a word for it. 

Ben and Marcus have kind of just been looking at each for a moment, Ben caught up in his own head, imaging Marcus all dressed up in cowboy paraphernalia. Someone hollers offscreen and Marcus glances up, alert as a meerkat. He says, “Yep, be just a minute!” 

“Gotta get goin’?” Ben asks. He sounds more disappointed than he’d been meaning to. 

“Yeah, sorry, sugar. Needed in the house for somethin’.” Marcus smiles and it looks a little sad. “I’ll text you, okay? And I’ll call tomorrow if I get the chance.” 

“Sure thing. Tell everyone I say hi, yeah?”

Marcus grins and hops down from what he’d been sitting on: a wooden barrel. His camera is angled just so, his face in the top left of Ben’s phone, the sun catching in pixeled fractals behind him. It looks like a glowing cloak, almost a halo with how it crests the back of his head in golden twinkles. 

“Yeh, I’ll give ‘em a shout for ya. Okay, Ben, I gotta get goin’.” Marcus brings his phone up so his face is real close, the sun only a few thin lines squeaking past his face. “Love you, sweetheart.” 

“I love you, Marcus.” 

And Marcus looks over at whoever is calling to him from the house. His jaw is a long, sharp line. 

He looks down at Ben one last time, bares his teeth into a ghoulish smirk, then ends the call.

And Ben, save for the two dogs next to him on the couch, is alone in the apartment. 

* * *

  
  
  


He gets a text from Marcus an hour later. 

**marcus** :  _ dad says hi by the way _

Attached is a photo of Marcus and his father standing together, arms slung around each other’s shoulders. They’re in front of a decorated tree. Marcus is in his Primus shirt. They’re both smiling brightly at whoever is holding the phone for the picture. Ben pretends it’s himself. 

**ben** :  _ Well hello Mr. Parks!!!! _

**marcus** :  _ miss you like crazy darling i’ll call you first thing in the morning  _

**ben** :  _ I miss you too Marcus  _

Ben takes a selfie. Georgie and Puffin are in frame, curled up together in the spot where Marcus usually sleeps in the bed. It’s grainy as hell, in the low light of the television, but Ben is smiling big under his mustache and he knows Marcus will get a kick out of it. He hits send. 

Three dots appear immediately. 

**marcus** :  _ dang i’m missing out on family time there huh  _

**marcus** :  _ glad the kids are keeping you company  _

**ben** :  _ Like shadows! Georgie is a snuggler just like her father _

**marcus** :  _ well tell the pups goodnight for me okay? have them keep the bed warm on my behalf _

**ben** :  _ Of course _

**marcus** :  _ good night benjamin _

**ben** :  _ Good night Marcus  _

**marcus** :  _ don’t let the serial killers bite… or stab… or mutilate  _

**ben** :  _ Goodness how romantic of you  _

**marcus** :  _ i try! _

They leave it at that and Ben clicks his phone shut, lets it slide down onto the blanket that’s covering his lap. The dogs next to him are sleeping soundly. The television hums and he keeps it on for the night. It’s weird having the bed to himself, no Marcus there to roll over to and throw an arm around. It makes Ben feel strangely small, like the bed is the vast expanse of space and he’s an untethered astronaut, spinning away. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Mornin’, babe.”

Ben grunts, rubs at his eye. “Mornin’, love.” His voice is slurry with sleep. 

“Merry Christmas!”

Ben smiles to himself, up at the ceiling. The phone is on his chest. Georgie pushes her nose into Ben’s arm curiously, inhales a few times. “Merry Christmas, Marcus.” 

“Doin’ gifts today an’ then I’m on a flight back to ya tomorrow.” 

“I’ll be counting the hours.” 

Marcus giggles, sighs. “We had a big dinner last night. Venison and fresh potatoes. You should’ve seen it, I sat down and had a whole meal of real food.” 

“Oh, you mean your folks don’t let you live off Funions and vape juice?” 

“Nah. I’m gonna come back to you fuckin’ ten pounds heavier.” 

Ben kind of laughs and runs a hand through his hair, which is all mussed. Bedheaded. “I’ll still be able to lift you like nothin’. Flex those Kissel muscles on you.” 

Marcus exhales into the mouthpiece and Ben can imagine him going red. “Oh, shuddup…,” he breathes. 

They talk a few minutes longer. Marcus goes on about cousins and the weather in Lubbock, how when he goes outside one of the dogs, Annie, comes up and sniffs around his ankles every time. Ben listens contently, lying there in bed, the dogs happily dozing beside him. 

“I’ve holed up in the bathroom and I gotta go, I think we’re doin’ stockings in a minute here.”

They say their I love yous and their goodbyes. Ben promises not to drink too much. Marcus promises he’ll keep in touch as much as family allows. 

* * *

  
  
  


Ben isn’t too keen on Christmas. 

He’s spent it alone a few years now and it’s his first holiday with Marcus as boyfriends and they’re not even together for it. He’s glad Marcus is with family, but he’s selfish and lonely. He wants Marcus all to himself, here in New York. He can’t share Marcus with his own family, that would start and end like a head-on collision. Marcus said Ben could tag along down to Lubbock if he wanted, warned the folks might not understand completely. Ben waved him off, said enjoy your time alone. 

Henry is doing his own thing out in California with Natalie. 

The apartment is absent of Ween. No one’s in the kitchen crunching pickles, no artificial sweet of vape sweeping into the living room from the office. 

Ben brushes his teeth, pats his hair down. He goes into the bedroom and finds one of Marcus’ shirts in the top drawer, the black one with Gein printed on the front. It’s a weird pick, but Ben lifts it to his face and inhales, breathes in the oddly earthy smell of his boyfriend. 

He swings it around his neck like a wrestler holsters a towel over their shoulders. 

It’s going to be a long Christmas. 

* * *

  
  
  


Ben is on his third round of eggnog and rum, pouring a good helping into the Mason jar Marcus usually fills with sweet iced tea after an intense research session. He’s trying to be good, but the sun’s gone down and the eggnog was screaming from the shelf in the fridge. It’d be criminal if Ben didn’t indulge. 

Besides, he’s celebrating. 

It’s not drinking alone. 

Ben is celebrating. 

He goes back to the couch, resumes Cannibal Holocaust. It’s the movie that got Marcus and him talking in the first place, holds a special place in his heart. Puffin taps his paws excitedly on the hardwood, jumps onto the couch to snuggle in next to Ben. 

Ben’s phone buzzes. 

**marcus** :  _ look what i got!!! _

A photo of the Legendary Stardust Cowboy’s album, Rock-it to Stardom, on vinyl. The cover art is sick, reminds Ben of the carpets used at roller rinks in the 80s. 

**ben** :  _ Nice!! Don’t forget you still have gifts waiting for you here too _

**marcus** :  _ wouldn’t forget for the world  _

**marcus** : _ i got gifts hidden around for you too just wait till tomorrow  _

Easier said than done. 

Ben finishes his eggnog and sits there with the empty glass in his hand, his phone in the other. He has the Gein shirt in his lap, crumpled from being toted around all day like a security blanket. It smells more like Ben than Marcus now. 

Ben is good and doesn’t get another serving of eggnog. 

He spends his Christmas alone and dozes off on the couch with the dogs. 

* * *

Marcus Ubers home from the airport. It’s a frigid evening in New York, biting compared to the even and fair sun of Texas, never dropping below 50 the few days he was there. He texts Ben the whole ride home. He feels giddy and light, can’t wait to throw himself at Ben like a car going 85 into a brick wall. 

* * *

  
  
  


Ben is right there at the front door, swings it open as soon as Marcus touches the knob. Marcus drops his bags, tackles Ben into a vicious hug, swinging his arms around his throat. Ben grabs him tight, circles him around twice off his feet.

“Merry Christmas,” Marcus muffles from where he’s pressed into Ben’s front. 

Ben kisses the top of his head, lifts his chin with his fingers to pepper his face in light, tickling smooches. “You’re a day late and a dollar short, Parks.” 

Marcus peels himself away to shuffle his bags into the door. He closes it, drops his luggage again to press himself to Ben. “You smell like booze,” he comments. 

Ben chuckles. It thunders through his chest, where Marcus has his ear pressed. “Was trying to find the holiday spirit.” 

Marcus frowns, mouth pinched down. “I’m sorry I couldn’t spend the actual day with you, Ben,” he says softly. 

Ben scoffs. He palms the back of Marcus’ head, runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t mind. The day itself doesn’t matter.”

Marcus looks up at Ben, makes eye contact. Ben looks tired, bleached out. Marcus kisses him softly, places a hand to the side of his face, which is stubbled under his touch. “Well, I’m here now an’ we got catchin’ up to do.”

Ben leans in and rubs his nose side to side against Marcus’, pulls him impossibly closer. “Oh yeah?” 

“Mhm.” Marcus kisses him again. “You’ll have nothin’  _ but _ holiday spirit when I’m through with you. You’ll be  _ gorged _ with it, Kissel.” 

Ben laughs, doesn’t even think about, just starts laughing and Marcus joins in, there, pressed so closely against him. 

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> yeet this is my half-assed last second christmas dogtruth i hope you enjoyed
> 
> talk to me on tmblr @ficfucker


End file.
